A/N: This takes place in a slightly AU (but not too much) season 1. Logan and Veronica are together yet not public and the events mentioned take place before Veronica finds out Logan was the one with the drugs at Shelly's party. Also assume that they had time to establish more of a relationship. Thanks for reading!

The second time he missed noticing was the first time she unwittingly spent the night at his place.

His dad was out of town for the night. Her dad was out of town for the night. So when Veronica appeared at his door stating that she just didn't want to be alone, that all she wanted was to stay up to an unseemly late hour watching infomercials until holes were burned in their eye sockets, Logan didn't question it. Why would he? Hot blond chick on his couch getting nice and cozy with no parental supervision in sight? What teenage boy would risk losing that?

It was about two in the morning, or two at night for those who lived life the way he did, when he noticed her sound asleep. Her legs were draped across his lap, his hand keeping them nestled against him, and her head rested gently against his chest. She stirred slightly when he looked down and kissed her on the forehead, murmuring something softly into his shirt before snuggling closer. So heavy her eyes were that they didn't even bother to open as she did so.

Logan knew he should have taken her home. Should have let her sleep safely in her own bed, but he couldn't bring himself to wake her. She looked all too peaceful curled up in his arms.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, he carried her sleeping form up the stairs, taking each step as evenly as he could. He placed her down tenderly on a bed in the nearest guest room and pulled the covers over her. Sweetly he brushed loose strands of hair from her face as she sleepily settled within the blanket.

He got as far as the doorway before he turned back around. He couldn't leave her. He understood that she would probably not be pleased if he shared the bed with her, but he couldn't leave her. Not when she arrived with only one wish; one wish of not being alone.

So instead he pulled up one of the over sized fluffy chairs in the room to the side of the bed. It wasn't the usually lap of luxury he was accustomed to, but there in that chair, next to her, within arms reach, he would sleep.

As the early morning sun began to heat the room, Logan stirred from his slumber. He smiled as he saw Veronica's still sleeping form resting comfortably in the bed next to him. Somehow the blanket ended up on the floor during the night so he got up to retrieve it and covered the shivering girl once again.

He thought about running down stairs and seeing if he could throw together something that would resemble breakfast. It would be his way of taking another step in the right direction. She was only too obviously still hesitant when it came to their relationship, it was still so new and still so secret, and he wanted to take every opportunity to prove to her that he was in. He was for real. He was hers if she wanted him to be.

He would have willing fetched them food. Breakfast in bed, it doesn't get more romantic than that, but there was something so hypnotic about watching her sleep. Her breaths were deep and the rhythm of her chest raising and falling was oddly soothing. So instead, he returned to his spot in the chair and watched her as she slept, keeping his breathing in time with hers. He figured it was a rarity to see her in such a vulnerable quip-less state and he didn't want to take the chance that he would be granted with the sight a second time, whether or not it meant turning into a somewhat creepy stalker.

With an adorable little sound, Veronica turned on her side, her back facing him. He couldn't see her face, but he could tell she was awake. Awake and confused. Briefly her fingers clutched the sheet beneath her, he didn't know why, but she seemed tensed. Suddenly she jolted upwards and scanned the floor in front of her. Frantically she patted her hips as though she was searching pockets her skirt didn't possess. What she was actually looking for, he had no idea.

"Veronica?" Her body visibly stiffened even more so at the sound of his voice as she protectively wrapped her arms around her midsection. Her reaction was a bit disheartening for him, but he decided it was probably because she had just woken up in a strange room she had never seen before. He could only imagine how disorienting it must feel at first. "You ok?"

Thankfully she loosened up when he spoke again. She released a staggered breath and without turning completely around she glanced at him from over her shoulder and offered a small smile; the kind of smile that didn't come with teeth. The kind of smile that screamed forced. "Yeah, just a little lost." After another deep breath, she finally turned to him, the public Veronica mask firmly in place. "Hey, did we, uh..." She gestured to the bed. She tried her best to sound casual, but the fear in her tone was betraying.

Logan shook his head, hoping he would be able to bring the stale air that seemed to have fallen around them to a more normal state. "No, I crashed over here. Something about waking up to being tased by a 100 pound girl didn't seem appealing." He wanted to ask what was really bothering her, but they had an unspoken agreement. Didn't tell, don't push.

"Oh." She swallowed back some emotion that Logan couldn't distinguish. "You could have slept on the bed, or, you know, your own bed." She smiled at him, this time closer to a real smile. "See, now you're gonna be complaining to me when you're walking around like an eighty year old man later today. How can you be so selfish?" Her tone was playful and light, but something inside of him knew that the words she spoke were more of a 'thank you' than anything else.

"C'mon, I'll let you raid the fridge." He took her hand and though the way she awoke disturbed him, he didn't let himself think about it for the rest of the day alluding that it was just a normal reaction to the situation she found herself in.

The third time he missed noticing was the day they spent an entire afternoon in the pool house.

Veronica Mars was not a prude. She was no slut by any stretch of the word, like most of those bitchy 09ner girls deemed her to be, but Logan knew without a doubt that prude was not an adjective that described her. Tease would work. Hell, even tongue gymnast would be a more suiting title than prude.

Their regular behind closed doors heated make out sessions was nothing new. The school bathroom had been a witness to that very event more times than he could remember and the pool house, where they were at that moment, had their scents permanently embedded into its walls. So yep, Veronica Mars was in no way a prude.

They had been going at it for hours before he realized it. His fingers were entangled in her hair as hers clawed at his back with pure passion. Air no longer seemed to be a necessity as their mouths refused to ever leave one another. They were both fully engaged with each other, well, almost fully that is. There was one part of her that didn't seem to get involved; one part of her that no matter how passionate their kissing became, never moved.

Her legs. It was something he noticed multiple times before, but never bothered to think much of it. He would kiss her. She would kiss him back. Eventually, they would find themselves in more of a horizontal position than they started in. She never pushed him away, instead actually taking to encouraging him with small purposeful upward movements and with her ever traveling hands that seemed to always pull him closer to her. However, even through all the encouraging and all the passion, her legs always remained crossed.

She never straddled him, preferring to sit sideways in his lap instead. She never wrapped her legs around his waist even during the times her hands willingly locked his hips against hers. It should have confused him. It should have made him stop and think, for it was clear to him that the continual crossing of her legs was not a conscious effort. It appeared to be more of a sub conscious defense against something she was not yet ready for.

Of course, she was a virgin. He was positive that bastard Troy didn't get anywhere with her and Duncan, as far as Logan knew, was still running dry. So unless those rumors about her and the PCHers were true, highly doubtful considering he himself started them, she was as pure as they came. He wouldn't have been surprised if she were to confess that she was waiting until she was married to do it.

So he chalked it up as another little quirk that was Veronica Mars, make out queen who keeps her legs crossed like a proper lady. Veronica Mars, she who flinches at first touch, but immediately melts in his hands as soon as he kisses her.

She was a virgin, she wasn't ready to not be one, and he wouldn't push.

The fourth time he missed noticing was during the night he kept her company at her place.

She was on the floor doing her homework, like the model student he wasn't, with her ever faithful four legged companion nuzzled against her side. Having been banished to the couch for having lips that were too distracting, Logan laid back with remote in hand. He must have flipped through each and every station at least four times. The Mars family only had thirty stations after all, most of them being some form of the dreaded home shopping network.

"Wait wait wait. Go back." Randomly her attention was captured as he flipped past one of the news channels. When he returned to the station of her request he heard her breath hitch as she asked him to leave it.

The newscasters were talking about the recent rape and murder of a high school sophomore by the name of Faith Summers. Faith had attended one of her friend's parties where she was ultimately drugged and raped by a junior named Andrew Harris. Apparently the murder was deemed accidental as it was caused by a deathly mixture of the GHB Andrew had given Faith and some medication she was taking that he didn't know of. Even so, the punk would be spending most, if not all, of his natural born life behind bars.

When Logan spared a glance at her, her lower lip was quivering and the look in her eyes was that of horror and remorse. He didn't quite get it. Yeah, what happened to poor Faith Summers sucked, but it wasn't like Veronica knew her. Faith went to Pan High, it was unlikely their paths had ever or would have ever crossed, yet Veronica seemed so struck by the news.

"Hey Logan?" Her voice was shaky and soft. "Do you know that guy? Have you ever partied with him before or maybe seen him at one?"

He wasn't sure where this was coming from. Why she would ask him in such a way that made it sound like it was the most important question he would ever answer in his lifetime. "Nah, never seen him before."

"Good. That's good." She nodded as if she was ejecting any negative thoughts that lingered. "Yeah, I would hate to think he might have done that to someone we knew and was just never caught until now."

Logan wasn't sure how to handle it, how to take it, so he let it go. No matter how bad ass and tough skinned Veronica was, she was a softy on the inside. She cared more than necessary, even about those she didn't know. That's all it must have been; typical concerned Veronica.

The first time, the most important of any of times, he missed noticing was at Shelly Pomroy's party sophomore year.

She showed up in a little white dress and a strong 'you can't break me' demeanor. As the night went on and as the hisses became harsher her strength slowly faltered. When he spotted her downing an entire cup worth of rum and coke he laughed. His little Ronnie had finally hit bottom. He couldn't have been more proud.

Later when he found her lying limp on a lawn chair he decide to have fun. Calling guys and gals alike to come take body shots off the backstabber he once called friend. If he wasn't such an immature jackass he would have noticed something was wrong. He'd seen his fair share of alcohol induced pass outs and Veronica, with her tiny sounds and loose movements, didn't look like any of them.

If at the time he cared more and wasn't so blinded by hatred, he would've figure things out that night, if not the following morning when he returned to pick up a drunk Dick who had no recollection of how he ended up on the roof of Shelly's house. Duncan, the man who whisked Veronica off to safety was gone and Veronica's car, though slightly more decorated than it was the night before, was still parked down the road. His curiosity and the need to get one more laugh at the expense of the broken Veronica Mars led him into the house. He found her asleep in one of the guest rooms, alone and unworried for. The sight pleased his heartless self. Without a second thought he left her there. No one cared enough about her to do anything, why should he?

Now he knows he should have; now that she is standing there in her bathrobe yelling at him with anger burning in her eyes.

"Explanation? Apology?"

"You were raped?" His voice cracks as he speaks. He's certain she doesn't believe he is sincere, because he can hear himself. Though he knows he is, he knows he's shocked and is ready to make someone pay for hurting her, he doesn't quite believe it himself.

Because when it comes down to it, he should have known. The change he witnessed Veronica go through, the change he fondly deemed 'The Bitchformation' didn't happen when Lilly died. It didn't happen when Duncan dumped her. It didn't happen when her friends turned their backs on her, when he turned his back on her. It didn't even happen when her mom up and left. During all that she was still the sweet innocent Veronica he once knew. No, the change happened after that night. After the party. After he didn't care enough to do anything.

All he wants to do is to reach out and hold her, but of course she stops him.

"I'm going to find out who did this to me and I'm going to make them pay. Even if it was you. Sorry. I have to go throw up now."

She slams the door in his face and he breaks, collapsing into himself. It wasn't him, but it might as well have been. All this time, whether he admitted it or not, he knew. All those signs he pushed aside and made excuses for. How could he not have seen that it was her version of crying for help?

With the last eight words she said to him echoing in his mind, he heaves and now all he can think is

Me too…